In all of the things am doing to try and keep my head above water, and stay healthy, seeing my therapist once a month is as important, if not more so, than the drugs I order from Canada in my uninsured place in life.
These days, I'm happier, healthier, more relaxed, and more . . . at peace with my core than I was. But, I also know this is new and I still need some supervision when it comes to establishing and maintaining this new friendship I have with being who I truly am.
We talked about a lot of things: the difference between opinions and judgement, what standing up for myself looks like and if it works for me, intuition and insight, boundaries, and current milestones for me. We talked about shame and guilt and vulnerability and connection, and how I am as a person when I feel my feelings on time and how patterns are helpful until they're not. I had some specific recent events to discuss with him, but mostly we were relating these things back to general understandings of where I am and what I sit on that couch to do - brainstorm new practices to help me be a better me more of the time.
He said this, that made me laugh and laugh and laugh. "You're soooooo open to change." Then I had to tell him this story from my recent life. My person is in the process of moving in and everyone, including my person, has been asking, "Isn't that hard?" "How do you feel giving up your office?" "Does it feel weird to be sharing space?" "Is it a lot of changes?"
In order:
1. No. It has been almost completely natural. (Life would be harder if we had to share the important things - bathroom, closet, Netflix account. This house has two full bathrooms. The master bedroom closet is a bigger walk-in than my bedroom was for 4 years in NJ and we each have our own Netflix :-)
2. I am ELATED to have that room transformed. The office hasn't felt like it belonged to me for over a year, long before I got laid off and stopped using it as my office. Giving it away feels like the healthiest thing I could do. My bestest bestie offered earlier this year that short of peeing in the corners, it would be very hard to bring a different energy into that room. Having someone else turn it into THEIR space is the antidote to that.
3. Sometimes, as we are getting settled, I am noticing the edges and habits that might need to soften over time. But, mostly, we have a strong enough communication foundation and know enough about who each other REALLY is that it hasn't been weird
4. I embarked on cleaning out my closets and divesting myself of CRAP about a month ago. Not because of this, but because I needed to find a healthy way to let go of things that weren't needed and to make my load lighter should I need to move. This means there's a lot more space than there has ever been in this house and that makes the changes easier. So while what is on the shelves, as well as where the shelves are, may have changed, the only really significant changes I've noticed are: I no longer pee with the door open, there is a much nicer TV in my house, and I'm suddenly very aware of how outdated most of my technology was/is.
But, last night it occurred to me that while the office has changed substantially, and the living room reflects his presence, and the kitchen and dining room may never change substantially (cooking makes some people happy and excited and others anxious and worried. I am the former kind of person, my person is the later), the bedroom needed to be OURS (not just mine with an added dose of him). So, I mentioned that I wasn't sure our bedroom was set up ideally and was beginning to think about ways to rearrange the furniture. . . I asked my person to help me think of ways to change it for the better. After about five minutes of conversation he said, "Here, get up. Let's try it." And before I knew what was happening, the bed, night tables, chair, and bookshelves were moving, seeming to swirl around me, almost like a Disney movie where things come alive. He had an partial idea in his head, and working off of that started sliding things across the floor and saying things like, "Ummm, hmmm, maybe moving the light over will make sense," and "I'm not sure what goes in that corner now. " I stood against the wall and watched this, not knowing what to make of it. If I'm being honest, I was experiencing a weensie bit of panic.
Where were the measurements? Where was the list or drawing showing where everything would go? Oh my goodness, where was the PLAN? Aaaaaaaaaaaa!
He saw this and said, "Are you ok? You look like you're physically bracing yourself."
I replied, "Umm, you're moving very fast. I'm just staying out of the way. "
"Well, you wanted to think of different ways to arrange things. This is how I think. Is this really disturbing to you?"
On the one hand, of course, the answer was YES! On the other hand, there was part of me sitting deep inside my braced-self laughing and laughing saying, "Not only did you ask for this but real change for you never happens unless someone or something MAKES it happen. Look at this metaphor laid out right here, in your bedroom. Ha!"
It's no secret to my readers and my friends that I struggle with change. I can get very excited about change in idea form, But actually making changes to where I live, how I live, doing things like leaving (ahem, quitting) grad school, or leaving a job that makes me unhappy . . . well let's tally it up. I cried for a week when leaving my college to start grad school, because I was leaving my first home and a community where everyone knew and mostly respected me. I lived in the same apartment throughout grad school, and the year after, even though the management company was shady and the price tag exorbitant because the idea of packing my things in boxes and moving made me feel physically ill. I stayed in grad school a year longer than I had to get my masterses (plural Master's degrees - M.A. and M.S.) because . . . habit won out and going into the department was a habit even though, at that point, I had endured 3 years of advisor abuse. Most importantly, most wishy-washingly, most embarrassingly, I stayed in a job that no longer challenged or motivated me, or made me happy.
All of my excitement about change is worth nothing if I talk the talk but don't walk the walk. Or, as my brother often says - go big or go home.
So, when my therapist says I'm open to change, I have to fess up and admit that while I may be OPEN to change, that is vastly different to being good at it.
What I reported to him is close to the truth - I want things to change, and progress, otherwise I feel . . . numb. But sometimes I don't know how to do it. I posted a couple of months ago on FB "Christie Veitch wants everything to be different." A hilarious and whip-smart friend wrote, "I only want the things that are the same to be different. the things that are already different can stay the same."
The truth is, though, I want so much to be different (me, my family relationships, my job situation, the fact that no TV will ever again be as good as The West Wing . . . ). And yet, I still sometimes stand with my back to the wall and let it happen around me. I want change but I often don't make it happen. I'm skilled at putting things neatly in their place, ducks in a row, or, as my person said today, "being out in front" of what's coming.
Guess what, CV? Life doesn't work like that. Deal with it.
So, I am.
I have a friend who is hitch-hiking to a wedding this weekend, and therefore, not sure when he will get back. Just throwing himself to the mercy of what happens next. I have another friend who all in one year got married, bought a house, got a third dog (bringing the total poundage of her dogs-in-house-to over 300!) and got pregnant. I can look at my life and say, with honesty, I want everything to be different (imagine me . . . in Seattle. imagine me . . . somewhere where I could have a dog. imagine me . . . in a job that I loved. imagine me . . . back in school . . . maybe.) I have friends who have packed up a couple of suitcases and boxes and headed out for a new life that is 6000 miles away from where they are; but I am stubbornly in this house, seeking a job right here, because I want somehow to keep things same-ish while I'm changing.
Pema Chodron says:
ABANDON ANY HOPE OF FRUITION
“Fruition” implies that at some future time you will feel good. One of the most powerful Buddhist teachings is that as long as you are wishing for things to change, they never will. As long as you’re wanting yourself to get better, you won’t. As long as you are oriented toward the future, you can never just relax into what you already have or already are.
This is about RIGHT NOW. Not how things could be, tomorrow, but how I am making today work, on how I am practicing presence today, and how I want things to be. Now.
These people, while their choices aren't the same as the ones in front of me, are inspirations. Wedding you want to go to? Go! Time to get married, get some dogs, expand the family, and get a house - DO IT. Chance to move to Hawai'i or Vancouver? Don't stand against the wall while things move around you waiting to be pulled into it.
I'm realizing that boundaries are boundaries, but that even when we draw some lines to keep us safe, there's a lot of space in between for things to vary and move and grow and end and move on and change. It takes practice for me to remember, every day, that everything is impermanent and not mine to control. My plans and lists and pictures don't actually help me make change. What helps is when I ask for help. What helps is when I get what I ask for.
I need, sometimes, to be thrown in the deep end and reminded that I know full well how to swim.
If this year hasn't been 7 months of this exercise, then I don't know what is.
Or, in the words of the David Bowie:
"I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wildA million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)"
Change is disruptive. Always. Even when it's welcome, needed, or asked for. Disruption is having to think outside the box to make money and seek opportunities to do things that feel meaningful. Disruption is re-evaluating priorities. Disruption is my friends having babies and re-learning the true value of five minutes with two hands free or an hour of sleep. Disruption is waking up this morning and having that moment of, "where is the alarm now?"
Disruptive isn't the same as destructive. I get what I ask for, sometimes, and at others, I get what I need. In this case, it's both.
Off the wall, CV, get off the wall.
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p.s. it's important to note, that while my person was all about the swirling of furniture about me, after he had gotten things to where we could both see what his new plan looked like he gave me a solid hour or two to quietly absorb this, rearrange books and knick-knacks, and the like. And he also offered me verbal-gold stars as I moved things around in ways that made the room feel more balanced and spread out, which is what we were going for. It's now been two days, and I'm happy with the room like this.
